


Show and Tell

by fuzipenguin



Series: Give and Take [3]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: BDSM, Fluff, M/M, Other, Sticky, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 11:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3567680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz visits Sideswipe again to discuss his reading. Sideswipe plays responsible tutor and Sunstreaker is his assistant</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show and Tell

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Learning About Power and Light Snow Fall. Self-beta'd and this ended up being many thousands of words longer than I had anticipated, so please let me know if there are any glaring mistakes in either content or format.

                Jazz knocked on the twins’ door, a faint unease curling through his lines; it might be awkward, but he desperately needed the conversation that was about to happen. He had read all the files Sideswipe had sent; a daunting amount that had set his processor swimming. A lot of the articles had made his plating crawl, but some of the others had certainly caught his interest. He just didn’t know how to proceed next, what to approach Optimus with first. And Sideswipe had said to come to him with questions at any time…

                The door slid aside and the mech in question gave Jazz a small head bob in greeting. “Hey, Jazz. Come on in.”

                “Thanks for letting me come by, Sides,” Jazz replied, striding past Sideswipe into the room. He barely made it two steps before he froze at the sight that greeted him.  

                Although it wasn’t an active glare, the expression on Sunstreaker’s face as met Jazz’s stare wasn’t exactly friendly.

                “Hey there, Sunn… streaker.” If Sunstreaker was taking part in this little Q&A, Jazz supposed he should start off by not irritating him with one of the many hated nicknames his twin had bestowed upon him.

                Sunstreaker merely grunted and turned back to the data pad in his hand.

                “Sunny’s agreed to help,” Sideswipe said from so closely behind Jazz that he could feel the warmth emanating from the red plating. Frontliners always ran hot, hotter than many other mechs because of their thicker plating. Optimus was much the same, and over the past few weeks, Jazz had gradually grown to crave that heat. It meant safety and comfort.

                So instead of startling him with his closeness, Sideswipe unknowingly made Jazz relax a notch. Or maybe it _was_ knowingly, Jazz couldn’t be sure at this point. A lot of his preconceived notions regarding Sideswipe had been blown out of the water recently.

                “Willingly?” Jazz half joked, keeping an optic on the golden frame lounging so indolently several feet away.

                “He twisted my arm,” Sunstreaker deadpanned, not looking up from his data file. “But I liked it.”

                “Have a seat,” Sideswipe said, gesturing towards the chair Jazz had used the last time he was here. Jazz moved to it, still trying to figure out if Sunstreaker had been serious with his comment.

                “There’s high grade – don’t tell Prowl – and a fresh batch of energon treats.” Sideswipe sat down next to his brother, and slid the plate of goodies across the table and closer to Jazz.

                “Interesting color,” Jazz remarked, picking one up and examining it before popping it into his mouth.

                “Copper addition. One of Sunny’s favorites,” Sideswipe said with a significant look towards his brother. Jazz barely noticed as a tangy burst of flavor flooded his mouth.

                “Primus!” Jazz said, reverently touching his lips as he chewed.

                Sideswipe looked smug. “I know. They’re awesome. _I’m_ awesome.”

                Sunstreaker snorted derisively, and Sideswipe elbowed in him in the side. “You would eat a whole batch of those if I let you. Don’t deny it.”

                “I’m not saying anything. I’m just here, reading my novel.”

                From behind his visor, Jazz carefully watched the brothers interact, looking for any clues that would indicate Sideswipe’s self-proclaimed dominant role. He didn’t see the twins acting any differently than they normally did, however.    

                “They _are_ pretty amazing, Sideswipe,” Jazz said, giving credit where it was due. He snuck another of the treats, letting it sit on his glossa and melt from the heat of his intake.

                “Thanks. Buuuut… I think you’re here for another skill of mine, right? Want to get started?”

                Jazz swallowed reluctantly. “Yeah, let’s go for it. You sent me a bunch of info; talking about it might help get it all straight in my processor.”

                “Yeah, it was a lot, and I didn’t organize it in the best way, I admit. So let’s start small. The very basics. Tell me what you think a dominant’s role is,” Sideswipe said, filling a glass with high grade and handing it to his brother without looking. Sunstreaker took it from him, daintily sipping a small amount of the liquid before placing the glass on the arm of the couch. For all intents and purposes, he seemed entirely focused on his data pad.

               “To take control over the submissive.”

               Sideswipe tilted his head to the side. “’Take control over’? Do you really think that is the case?”

               Jazz hesitated. “Isn’t it?”

               “It could be. But some might call that rape.”

               Sideswipe nonchalantly reached out and filled another glass with high grade, taking a long swig before glancing over at Jazz. Jazz watched the frontliner, mouth agape.

               “Well? You want to think about your answer again?” Sideswipe asked with a raised orbital ridge.

               Jazz’s frame warmed as unexpected embarrassment flooded him; Sideswipe’s tone could only be called chiding.

               “I don’t know how else to say it.”

               Sideswipe nodded eagerly. “That’s alright. I’m big on consensual, so the phrase ‘taking control’ kinda irks me a little. I like to think about it in another way: a mech going into a session as a dominant assumes full responsibility for their submissive.”

               “But doesn’t a dominant control what a submissive does?” Jazz inquired. It had certainly seemed that way in all his reading.

               “Of course. I never said that there wasn’t an element of control in a session. But who do you think has the most control?”

               “The dominant,” Jazz immediately replied.

               “Alright, but where did that control come from?”

               Jazz blinked at Sideswipe, feeling like they were going in circles. “He… takes it? From the submissive?”

               Sideswipe grinned a little before shaking his head. “Look at this way… do you think Sunstreaker would let me do anything I wanted to him if he didn’t want it in the first place?”

               Jazz shot a glance at Sunstreaker, the deceptively loose frame concealing a mass that rivaled Ironhide’s and a personality that most agreed would be better suited for the Deception ranks. The twins had gotten into scraps with one another before; brawls that had torn them both up so badly they had been under Ratchet’s tender mercies for days at a time. They were pretty evenly matched, but Jazz didn’t think Sideswipe could make Sunstreaker do something he didn’t really want to do.

              “No. He’d kick your aft,” Jazz said, prompting a pleased expression to flit across Sunstreaker’s faceplates.

              “Yeah, he would. So when we do a session, Sunstreaker willingly lets me be in charge. But at any point in time, everything could come to a stop because he taps out or gives me a safe word. So in reality, the submissive has _all_ the control.”

              Sideswipe let that sink in, taking a cube from the top of the serving plate and offering it to his brother. Sunstreaker took it from him without hesitation, popping it in his mouth.  

              “Ok,” Jazz said slowly. “But you and Sunstreaker are evenly matched. Like you said, he wouldn’t let you do anything to him he didn’t want. What about a pair who are more different?”

              “Like you and Prime, you mean?” Sideswipe said with a rueful twist of the lips. “It shouldn’t matter if a minibot is getting it on with a mech Skyfire’s size. If a sub says the safe word, everything stops. They shouldn’t need to physically fight to get their control back.”

              “’Shouldn’t’.”

              Sideswipe nodded. “Again, that’s the difference between an act of rape and a good session. And I _know_ you know Prime would stop as soon as you say the word.”

              Jazz’s spark warmed a little. It was true; several weeks ago, Optimus had touched him with intent while they were in Prime’s quarters. Jazz had just come back from a close call on a mission and had been jittery. He hadn’t wanted to force himself to interface and had hesitantly asked Optimus to stop. Optimus had backed off immediately, yet stayed nearby and conversed with him instead.

              “You keep saying that word: session,” Jazz remarked. “What do you mean by it?”

              “I’ll get to that in just a second. First, tell me what a dominant’s role is.”

              Jazz ex-vented a little heavily, feeling like he was a sparkling in front of a tutor. “To accept control from and responsibility for a submissive.”

              “Excellent!” Sideswipe beamed at him. “I knew exactly what you first meant, but the wording is important. The word ‘take’ can be used in a bunch of different ways; ‘accept’ is a lot nicer. Like the control that Sunstreaker gives over to me is a gift, a really precious one, and my gift in return is that I take care of him every way I know how. You get me?”

              Jazz stared at the red mech for a long moment, understanding completely, but a little flabbergasted at the intensity of Sideswipe’s demeanor. It was abundantly clear that this was very important to Sideswipe, and not something to be entered into lightly.

             “Jazz?” Sideswiped asked, beginning to frown.

             “Yeah! Yeah, I get you, Sides. No, you’re right; the wording is important,” Jazz hurried to say.

             “Good!”He took up another goodie and handed it to his brother with a nudge. “Sunny – tell the mech how we define a session.”

             Sunstreaker took the treat and stared at it for a moment before speaking. “A session is a period of time in which I let Sideswipe take charge. We talk about it beforehand: what we’re going to do, how we’re going to do it.”

             When the golden twin finished speaking, he popped the treat into his mouth and looked as if chewing was the most important thing in the world at the moment.

             “Sessions can vary,” Sideswipe said, taking over the narrative with a small pat to Sunstreaker’s knee. “We’re actually pretty fluid. Sometimes we start a session, and I can tell right off that what we’re doing isn’t what Sunstreaker needs, even though we had talked about it ahead of time. So I’ll change to something else; if it’s a pretty drastic change, I’ll safe word, we’ll talk about things and then reschedule the session. But most of the time, we just keep on going. We know each other well enough to do that.”

             “So once the session ends…” Jazz trailed off.

             “We go back to us. I’ve read about some humans entering into a pact where the submissive and dominant stay in role for their entire lives, but then it’s not really a role any more. That’s their way of life. If someone needs that… good for them. But neither Sunny or I are interested in that.”

             Jazz contemplated both twins, Sideswipe leaning forward and looking so earnest while Sunstreaker remained in his slouch, no longer even paying attention to his data pad. In fact, it was drooping in his hand as he stared down at the floor between his feet.

             “It’s like a play,” Jazz summarized. “Where you act for a bit and then the show ends.”

             “With a happy ending,” Sunstreaker added.

             The corner of Sideswipe’s mouth quirked up. “Not always in the sense that you may be thinking, Jazz. Sessions aren’t always sexual in nature or end in an overload.”

             Sideswipe picked up two more treats, taking a bite out of one. He tilted his head backwards to lick and suck out the liquid center, the smaller plates covering his throat flexing attractively as he swallowed. Sunstreaker watched him, sidelong.

            “Well, where’s the fun in that?” Jazz joked, watching as Sunstreaker pushed off from his slump and nudged his brother’s shoulder with his own. Sideswipe held up the second treat to Sunstreaker’s lips, and he delicately took it with his denta.

            “It all depends on what mechs need at that particular time. Maybe you need to be held at the edge until you can’t think anymore. Or maybe you just need to feel cared for,” Sideswipe said, matter of factly. “Everyone’s motivations are different, and they can change at any moment.”

            “What if… a submissive doesn’t know what they need?”Jazz asked, voicing one of his most pressing concerns.

            “Knowing certainly does help the session. No matter how good a dominant is, they can’t read a mech’s processor. Although, at the spark of it all, is a basic power exchange. Beyond that, especially for beginners, it’s best to start small. It’s good to have some knowledge of the more extreme stuff though – that way you can create a list of hard limits. Those are things that you absolutely do not want to ever do,” Sideswipe explained.

           “Well, I have that list,” Jazz said, thinking back to the files he had divided up into ‘no’, ‘maybe’, and ‘Pit, yes!’.

           “Good. That’s a great start! Now, let’s back track a bit and talk about a submissive’s role. Describe that for me,” Sideswipe instructed.

           “A submissive’s role is to hand over control to their dominant partner.”

           Sideswipe nodded. “Absolutely. And here’s the thing that should be obvious: trust. There has to be a great deal of trust between partners. A submissive has to trust that their dominant will stop when the safe word is given – goes back to what you were saying about mecha of different sizes and strengths. And finally, the dominant has to trust that the submissive will actually give the safe word.”

           Jazz’s visor dimmed in confusion. “Why wouldn’t they?”

          Sideswipe glanced over at his brother with a questioning expression. A moment later, Sunstreaker huffed and gave a minute nod.

          “Various reasons. Could be they don’t want to disappoint their dom. They may be too caught up in the moment, or they may not know their own limits. Sunny and I don’t do a lot of pain play, because he’s never asked me to stop, and I’ve ended up going for far longer than I should have. I’m still learning when to slow things back down.”

          Sunstreaker shifted in his seat, almost imperceptibly leaning into his brother. Jazz blinked in surprise at how close they had gotten. When Jazz had first entered the room, they were about a foot apart on the couch. Now, they were lightly pressed together from thigh to shoulder.

          “What is it?” Sideswipe asked when his brother nudged up against him. “You want to add something? You’d probably be better at explaining this part than I would.”

          Sunstreaker hesitated and then nodded. He lifted his gaze to meet Jazz’s, expression carefully blank. “Sometimes the sessions with pain are the best,” he admits. “After a while, everything else goes away. Everything narrows down to just sensation and Sideswipe. And if it goes on long enough, I don’t even feel the pain anymore. It’s like when you go numb after a while from drinking too much high grade. It’s… it’s nice.”

          Jazz listened as Sunstreaker produced more words at once than Jazz had ever heard him say , optics glazing over as he seemed to fall into recollection. It made Jazz’s spark thump a little quicker in his chest cavity, charge igniting in his lines.

          “Nicely said,” Sideswipe praised, taking a goodie from the pile and lightly pressing it against Sunstreaker’s mouth. The golden warrior took it automatically, optics dimming.

          “I have a feeling that that might be something you’re looking for,” Sideswipe remarked to Jazz, pulling the serving plate of treats into his lap. “You strike me as a mech who wants to lose touch with the world every now and then.”

          “Doesn’t everybody?” Jazz asked, unable to tear his optics away from Sunstreaker’s frame. It was nothing overt, but the frontliner just seemed so much more relaxed than even minutes before.

          “Yeah, sometimes,” Sideswipe admitted. “But not for long – there’s too much I might miss out on. A good recipe,” he said, holding up another treat as an example before placing it between Sunstreaker’s already parted lips. “A new prank. A good movie. A new album…”

          “But isn’t it nice to get away from this damned war? Away from the death and the loss and the pain?” Jazz exclaimed bitterly. As soon as he said it, he clamped his mouth shut, regretting the words. Doubts from an officer could hurt morale faster than a lost battle.

          Sideswipe paused with his hand hovering a few inches above the plate, considering Jazz. Both twins were quiet until Sunstreaker made a small, protesting sound.

          “Shhh. Wait your turn,” he murmured to his brother before turning his attention back to his guest. “Yeah, Jazz. It’s nice to turn your processor off and drift. For a little while. But don’t get lost there.”

          Jazz pursed his lipplates before nodding once. He hadn’t even yet experienced the numbness Sunstreaker spoke about, but he wanted it. Badly.

          He knew Sideswipe was right, though. His words matched those of the warning voice in the back of Jazz’s processor that always sounded suspiciously like Prowl. There was a time and place for everything, and Jazz’s role in this war was too essential for him to fade away. A day trip was acceptable, a sabbatical was not.

          “Humans call it subspace – that state of mind a submissive falls into during a session. Sometimes a sub falls into it so deeply that they can’t even speak right, much less remember their safe word. That’s part of a dominant’s job – to stop things if the submissive can’t. It’s easy to go too far if you’re not paying attention – not as damaging when it’s pleasure versus pain, though,” Sideswipe said wryly. He placed the next cube on Sunstreaker’s glossa and watched him with a critical optic as his brother chewed.

          “What if it does go too far?” Jazz asked, curious.

          “Well, then you end up in MedBay with Ratchet giving you the longest lecture of your existence,” Sideswipe said, using his finger to wipe away a stray smear of energon from the corner of Sunstreaker’s mouth. Jazz was a little surprised that Sunstreaker didn’t bat his brother’s hand away at the action.

           “And when the submissive drops out of subspace, there can be a lot of fallout,” Sideswipe added. “ _Especially_ if you ruin someone’s brand new wax job.”

           Jazz expected Sunstreaker to make a comment, but the warrior’s gaze was fixed onto his brother’s face, his expression slack.

           “I take it you’re saying that from personal experience?” Jazz asked, amused.

           “Naw. Have no idea what you’re talking about. Sunstreaker,” Sideswipe called, making his brother jerk, and his optics clear a little.

           “Hmm?”

           “Get on the floor. On your knees. Perpendicular to me. You know the position.”

           Jazz startled, captivated as Sunstreaker immediately slid off the couch and landed on the floor. He spread his thighs wide enough to bracket Sideswipe’s closest leg with his knees and then slid forward, pressing his chest against the limb. When he looked up, he caught sight of Jazz out of the corner of his optic and a surprised expression flitted across his faceplates, almost as if he had forgotten Jazz was there. Sunstreaker immediately jerked his head to the side, staring fixedly at Sideswipe’s abdomen.

           “Uh uh. What are you doing?” Sideswipe chided softly, sliding a hand beneath Sunstreaker’s jaw and exerting enough pressure to force Sunstreaker to face straight ahead. He still wasn’t directly looking at Jazz, but his optics kept warily flicking in his direction.

           “Hey. Jazz is your brother in this. Don’t hide from him; one day he’ll be in your position. You have to show him how it’s done.”

           Despite Sunstreaker’s quick nod, the golden frame was still tense, and it hurt Jazz to see it. Especially since he had seemed so comfortable mere moments before.

           “Sunny, don’t…” Jazz began, but was stopped mid-sentence by Sideswipe’s head whipping up.

           “Sunstreaker and I talked about this ahead of time, and he’s fully capable of using his safe word if he’s not comfortable. Sunstreaker, do you remember your safe word?” Sideswipe asked, glaring at Jazz while placing a gentle hand atop Sunstreaker’s helm.

           “Yes, sir.”

            “Good. You’re doing very well,” Sideswipe praised, smiling down at his twin as Sunstreaker looked up at him through lowered optic shutters. As soon as he saw Sideswipe’s pleased expression, Sunstreaker’s shoulders relaxed; he didn’t move his head to keep Jazz in sight, instead keeping his gaze locked on his twin.

            “And you.” Sideswipe smile faded as he looked at Jazz once more. “You will not give orders to Sunstreaker. In fact, you’re not even to _speak_ to him unless I approve of it first. Do you understand?”

            “Yes, sir.” The phrase slid out his mouth without thinking, his glossa loosened by Sideswipe’s suddenly deeper tone and the expectation of obedience that he projected. Jazz’s back straightened, coming to almost full attention without him even realizing it.

            Sideswipe held his optics for a second longer, before his glare morphed into a small smile. “You’re a natural.”

            Jazz slumped like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. A tremor ran through him, and he curled his hands into fists. How did Sideswipe _do_ that? With only his voice alone?

            “So, you’re… in session right now?” he asked, still trying to figure out how Sideswipe provoked such reactions in him.

            “We started as soon as you walked through the door.”

            Jazz followed the movement of Sideswipe’s hands – one slowly petting the top of Sunstreaker’s helm, the other placing a treat on his awaiting glossa. They were easy, practiced motions, making Jazz think they had done this before.

           “I thought sessions were supposed to be pre-arranged. You didn’t tell me,” Jazz protested.

           “You’re not a participant. You’re just watching. And you _need_ to watch, to see a session in real time,” Sideswipe explained. “No matter how much you read, or we talk, it’s not really going to sink in until you see it.”

           Jazz huffed, waving a hand between Sideswipe and himself, “You really think that I wasn’t participating just now?”

           Sideswipe shrugged, his energy field suddenly rippling abrasively. Jazz startled at its touch, realizing Sideswipe had kept his field carefully retracted this whole time.

           “You brought that on yourself. I told you last time - in this room, when we’re having a talk like this, you don’t order us around. _Especially_ Sunstreaker. He’s _mine_.”

           The warrior’s armor flared aggressively as he leaned forward over Sunstreaker. It was a clear claim of possession that Jazz had absolutely no plans on challenging, and he reflexively dropped his gaze to the side.

           Sideswipe’s actions didn’t just affect Jazz; they also prompted a shuddering moan from Sunstreaker. Both Sideswipe and Jazz looked down to see Sunstreaker staring up at his brother with fluttering optic shutters, his lips half parted as he ventilated heavily.

           Sideswipe straightened up with a delighted smile, trailing a hand down the side of Sunstreaker’s face.

           “Interesting… found yourself a new kink, did you?”

           “What? What happened?” Jazz asked, glancing from one twin to the other, a little bit lost as to what had put that look of bliss on Sunstreaker’s face.

           “We’ve never played with anyone else before. It’s the first time I ever… tell me, Sunstreaker. Tell me what got you so revved up just then,” Sideswipe commanded.

           Sunstreaker’s glossa darted out to moisten his lower lip, his hand creeping up to wrap around Sideswipe’s knee. “You… you were going to go against Jazz. For me.”

           Sideswipe’s expression softened, and he leaned forward to gently bump his forehelm against his brother’s. “Sunny… I would go against the _world_ for you.”

           The golden twin moaned again, surging upwards to mash his mouth against his brother’s and practically clinging to Sideswipe’s leg.

            Jazz was frozen in place as they kissed, his charge ramping up exponentially at the sight. Nearly everyone had seen the twins kissing or groping one another at some point, especially after battles when their energon lust ran high. There was even an incident in one of the abandoned storage areas that Prowl refused to elaborate on, no matter how many times Jazz bugged him about it. Prowl had obviously caught an optic full though, judging by his flustered change of subject every time the topic was brought up.

           This, though. This kiss was incredibly intimate, something that even Jazz would normally turn his head away from. He just couldn’t avert his optics, however, too transfixed by Sunstreaker’s desperate press upwards and Sideswipe’s fingers lovingly cupping his brother’s jaw.

           The kiss lasted for several long moments, the only sounds in the room that of Jazz’s harsh ventilations and the slick motion of the brothers’ mouths. Then the distinctive metallic slide of a retracting interface panel echoed in the room.

           Sideswipe abruptly sat up, reaching between his thighs and emerging with Sunstreaker’s wrist gripped tightly in his hand. Sunstreaker moaned in disappointment, hips undulating against his brother’s leg. Jazz quickly glanced down to make sure his own frame hadn’t betrayed him, and when he looked up, Sideswipe was shaking his head at his brother.

           “Sunstreaker. We have a guest.”

           “I don’t care,” Sunstreaker protested. It quickly became obvious that it was Sunstreaker’s panel that had popped. The overhead light made the smears Sunstreaker’s spike left behind on Sideswipe’s plating gleam. “Take me, in front of him. Show him that I’m yours.”

           Jazz jolted in surprise as Sideswipe shot to his feet, arm snaking out to wrap tight fingers around his brother’s neck. Sunstreaker choked out a surprised protest, hands griping his brother’s wrist. Jazz almost intervened, almost got between the two of them. But then he realized that Sideswipe had left himself open in any numbers of ways, openings he knew Sunstreaker could have used, but didn’t go for. Even his tugging on Sideswipe’s wrist seemed half-sparked.

           “Did you just tell me what to do?” Sideswipe asked in a mild tone. It was way more effective than shouting, making even Jazz shrink back a little at the warning contained in the words.

           “No, sir!” Sunstreaker managed, vocalizer obviously under pressure. “It was just a suggestion!”

           “I’m up for watching,” Jazz offered eagerly, feeling his own spike press urgently against the underside of its cover. The twins were hot as the Pit together on a normal day. Watching the two of them like this, however… well, it was proving way more enticing than Jazz had ever imagined.

           Sideswipe looked over at him, gaze dropping immediately to Jazz’s lap and optics widening in surprise. Jazz suddenly realized that his hand was between his legs, stroking his interface array without him even knowing it. He whipped his hand away, looking sheepishly back at Sideswipe. “Uh…”

           “He doesn’t mind, sir. He wants to see it,” Sunstreaker said, regaining Sideswipe’s attention by sliding a hand up red plated thigh.  

           Sideswipe opened his mouth as if to speak and then shook his head, releasing Sunstreaker’s neck. He took a step back, making Sunstreaker sway in place as his support fell away.

           “Marigold,” Sideswipe announced, taking another step away from his brother and crossing his arms over his chest. It was an oddly defensive position and one no longer screaming authority.

           Jazz tilted his head to the side, utterly confused.

           “Sides?” Sunstreaker asked blearily, slowly sinking back onto his pedes. He stared up at his brother, appearing just as befuddled as Jazz felt.

           “What just happened?” Jazz asked.

           Sideswipe tiredly wiped a hand across his face. “I used the safe word.”

           “Why?”

           Peeking over his hand at his brother, Sideswipe spoke. “Because I wasn’t comfortable with where things were going and didn’t think I’d be able to steer things back on track. Are you with me, Sunstreaker?”

           Sunstreaker looked around as if in a daze, optics taking note of the abandoned goodie platter and Jazz’s carefully still frame. Sideswipe wasn’t moving, so Jazz thought it was a safe bet that he should do the same.  

           “Getting there.” Sunstreaker carefully reached out and using the table and the couch, leveraged himself up onto it. He glanced up at his twin, pulling one of the couch’s pillows over his lap and covering his still onlined spike. “Too much?”

           “That is so far beyond what we discussed…”

           “No, yeah, I get it,” Sunstreaker said, waving a hand through the air. His optics were clearing, the haze chased away by the occasional rapid blinking. He shivered, plating rattling mightily, and Sideswipe broke from his carefully held pose.

           “I’ll be right back,” he said, turning and disappearing into their berth room.

           Jazz glanced between Sunstreaker’s slouched frame and the empty space where Sideswipe had just been, and decided to keep quiet. Moments later, Sideswipe returned, lugging a large bundle of cloth that he shook out and draped over his brother. Once he tucked it around Sunstreaker, covering up everything but the golden warrior’s head, he carefully sat down on the couch a few feet away. He was at an angle, facing both Jazz and Sunstreaker, but utterly focused on his twin.

           “Probably wondering what just happened, huh, Jazz?” Sideswipe asked without looking at him.

           “A little bit,” Jazz admitted, shifting a little to relieve some of the pressure on his disappointed spike. “Did I…”

           “Nothing directly. But we’ve never had a session with someone else. There were some things I didn’t count on.”

           Sunstreaker’s optics slowly dimmed and then offlined as his head fell back to be supported by the couch. “You can’t think of everything.”

           Sideswipe pursed his lips, frowning. “No, but I still should have done better. You see,” he said, finally looking over at Jazz, “hand-feeding is just about the quickest way to drop Sunstreaker into subspace. We agreed to a slow start, letting him sit there through most of our talk and then bring him out of it bit by bit to show you what aftercare looks like. I _didn’t_ think about how possessive I can get or even suspected how much Sunny would like it. If we had continued with Sunny’s idea…” Sideswipe shook his head.

           “There’s just too much to talk about before we do something like that. Even with you just watching.”

           “Control freak,” Sunstreaker commented, optics lighting up enough for him to shift on the couch, sliding sideways and bringing his legs up across Sideswipe’s lap. Sideswipe tucked them close, rearranging the blanket around Sunstreaker’s pedes.

           “Hey – me being a control freak has had you screaming in pleasure more times that I can count,” Sideswipe retorted. Sunstreaker gave an agreeing nod, slumping back into the couch’s cushions with a sigh.

           Jazz snorted, shaking his head. When Sideswipe curiously glanced at him, Jazz made an ambiguous hand wave in Sideswipe’s direction. “Never would have pegged you for a control freak. Not the way you fling yourself around during battle.”

           Sideswipe’s expression turned thoughtful. “Well…it’s like you said. Sometimes it’s nice to get away from the war. To have power over something; all I can do during battle is react. I have no control over what the ‘cons do.”

           Jazz pondered that, slowly nodding. “So you both get something out of this.”

           “Pit, yeah!” Sideswipe exclaimed, giving Jazz an odd look. “I love my brother, mech, and I’d do anything for him.  But even _I_ wouldn’t continue to do this if it didn’t do something for me too; not long term anyway. It wouldn’t be healthy.

           “That’s what I was saying last time – there doesn’t always have to be a relationship between two people for a power exchange to happen. And now you’ve seen that there doesn’t even have to be interfacing,” he pointed out, gesturing at Sunstreaker and the plate of treats.

           “That’s why you need to talk with Prime. He might not be able to give you what you need. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you any less, but not everyone has the right processor-set for it either.”

            Jazz nodded again, thinking about Optimus’ tendency for self-sacrifice. Even if Optimus didn’t feel comfortable, Jazz had the inkling that Optimus would agree anyway.

            “Yeah… but it’s _Optimus_. He would give up his spark if he thought someone else needed it more,” Jazz protested. “What if he hates the idea but still does it anyway?”

            Surprisingly, Sunstreaker answered, optics still offline. “You’re a smart mech, Jazz. Read the situation. We can show you what our process is, what works for us, but ultimately your relationship is your own.”

            “Yeah,” Jazz said. “No, I understand.” Then he chuckled.

            “You know, Sideswipe… you keep warning me about Optimus not willing to do this. Are you hoping I’ll come back to you, offering you a whip to beat me with?”

            Sunstreaker abruptly sat up, glaring at Jazz. “He’s not a power hungry freak, you know,” he growled in defense of his brother. 

            Sideswipe hurried to pat Sunstreaker’s closest leg. “Don’t think he means it like that, Sunny. And like I told you before, Jazz… I can help you if you if it comes down to it. Probably not a long-term situation, though.”

            “I definitely didn’t mean anything,” Jazz hurried to say. “I’m real grateful to you both for doing all this for me.”

             Still glaring a little, Sunstreaker subsided under Sideswipe’s gentling hand.

             “You’re welcome,” Sideswipe replied, quirking a grin. “And what I’m hoping is that Prime is all about tying you up to get you off. I just want you to realize that it’s not for everyone. Well, anyway… we got off track a bit, but there’s still some more to talk about, if you want. Unless you need a little alone time,” he said, pointing meaningfully at Jazz’s lap.

             “’m sorry. You know you two are hot like burning, mech. Couldn’t help it,” Jazz said awkwardly, waving off the frontliner’s suggestion.

              Sideswipe considered Jazz for a long moment before apparently finding his apology sincere. “Yeah. I know,” he said, preening a little. “And it’s an interesting idea; trust me, I was tempted. The two of us will talk about it, for sure. 

              “But for now, back to the discussion. Where was I?” Sideswipe asked, frowning down at his hands in thought.

              “What is this ‘aftercare’ that you were talking about?”

              Sideswipe looked up, surprised. He gestured to Sunstreaker’s sprawled out form. “You’re looking at it. When you hit overload, or that last strike of the whip falls, the session doesn’t just end and you walk away. Every sub needs something different – some just like to know their dominant is nearby. Some feel the need to cuddle. Others need physical support like energon or coolant or even to be kept warm.”

             He gestured again to Sunstreaker. “Sunny’s core temperature drops almost immediately after a session. We have no idea why, but covering him up and letting him be works out well.”

             “What about the dominant?”

               Sideswipe shrugged. “Again, it’s different for each person. I like to cuddle. And talk.”

               Sunstreaker groaned as if aggravated. “Incessantly talk.”

               “I like to know what worked, what didn’t, what felt good, what changes we could make in the future,” Sideswipe explained. “Sunstreaker just grunts at me. Somehow, we still manage to have a conversation.”

                Jazz grinned, imagining it. “I can picture it. How long does aftercare last?”

                “However long it needs to be. Sometimes just a few minutes, sometimes hours. Remember how I said sometimes a submissive can get so out of it they can’t even remember their safe word? Aftercare is bringing them back to functionality, even if they’re still lingering in subspace. Sunstreaker can still function normally but be in a light subspace for days or weeks, depending on how a session goes. Mellows him out,” he said, grinning down at his brother. “You’ll know when he drops out of it completely – makes him moody. The incidence of minibot maimings go way up.”

                Sunstreaker kicked at his brother a little, a pout forming on his handsome faceplates. “Well, if they weren’t so damned annoying…”

                “So that’s basically it. From start to finish,” Jazz said, steering them away from a Sunstreaker rant. Although considering how limp the warrior was, Jazz didn’t know if he would have gotten far from his initial complaint.

                “Hmm, well, there’s also subdrop – another human term. It’s when a submissive comes out of subspace completely. It’s coming down from a high back to normal, but being high for so long can make ‘normal’ look kinda dismal. It’s why Sunstreaker gets moody like he does; some human submissives can get pretty depressed. It’s important to recognize it when it happens and for a dominant to support their sub through it; sometimes just talking will help.  

                 “Or… you could frag your poor brother so hard he limps for a few days,” Sideswipe added wryly, looking significantly down at Sunstreaker. “Every mecha copes differently.”

                The golden twin merely smirked.

                “So yeah, that’s the basics,” Sideswipe said. “Power exchange, trust, the roles, discussion before hand, aftercare…” he said, ticking down each point on his fingers.

                “What questions do you have on any of that?” he asked, offering the high grade to Jazz once more. This time Jazz accepted it, pouring himself a glass and taking a healthy swig. It burned pleasantly as it flowed down his intake tubing.

                “I don’t think I have any right now,” Jazz admitted. “Seeing some of it live as you were describing it helped a lot.”

                “If you have anything to ask Sunstreaker, now’s the time to do it,” Sideswipe suggested. “Like I said… mellow.”

                Jazz glanced at the golden twin, making a distrustful face. “Yeah?”

                “I won’t bite,” Sunstreaker spoke up, optics still offline. “That’s Sides’ thing.”

                “You know, I can never tell if you’re joking or not,” Jazz complained.

                Sunstreaker tilted his head carefully to the side, one optic onlining dimly. “And you never will,” he deadpanned.

                “Uh huh. Alright, how about this. Do you ever switch things up? You take on the role of a dominant?”

                Sunstreaker’s other optic onlined as well, and he stared at Jazz for a few seconds. “Every now and then,” he finally said, before his gaze went dark once more.

                Jazz waited for him to elaborate, but he never did. Sideswipe finally spoke up when it was obvious Jazz needed a little more explanation.

                “Remember how I said I would do this for Sunny if I didn’t like it, but only on a short term basis? Well… when I’m submitting, I need different things from Sunny than he needs from me. And Sunny doesn’t like doing it all that often, and I don’t need it all that much anyway,” Sideswipe explained.

                “What do you need?” Jazz asked, curiously.

                Sideswipe shrugged nonchalantly. “Just… things.”

                Jazz considered the red twin, how a lot he had assumed about Sideswipe had been turned on its head over the past few days. He decided it was best to let it go.

                “No one’s the same. _You_ have to decide what _you’re_ looking for. You don’t have to choose immediately. And you may change your mind about what you think you need,” Sideswipe added.

                “Sunstreaker, what are you looking for in your sessions?” Jazz asked after nodding his thanks to Sideswipe.

                The golden frontliner huffed and kicked at Sideswipe again. “Why did we do this again?”

                 “Because we wanted to help. You don’t have to answer him,” Sideswipe said, giving a warning look at Jazz which he accepted with a nod. It was an awfully personal question, but one he thought he could really benefit from.

                “I know,” Sunstreaker grumbled. Then after a long pause, he spoke again, so quietly that Jazz’s sensitive audials had to strain to pick up the words. It didn’t help that he had turned his helm, looking at the couch back instead of his brother or Jazz.

                “I want to feel safe. Cared for. No responsibilities.” Sunstreaker paused again. “Cherished. And I always do.”

                Sideswipe startled, and Jazz watched as the other twin’s optics brightened. He smiled, a small, shaky, but joyous expression. It made Jazz realize that Sideswipe got more than just the feeling of being in control out of the twins’ sessions. Maybe… maybe enjoying the other person’s pleasure was enough too. At least for a little while.

                “Your turn,” Sunstreaker said impatiently after several moments of Sideswipe staring sappily at his brother.

                “My turn?”

                Sunstreaker raised an orbital ridge at Sideswipe, and the red twin’s expression morphed from happiness to apprehension. Jazz immediately lifted a hand, waving it through the air. “You don’t have to, Sides.”

                “No. No, Sunstreaker answered you; it’s only fair.” Sideswipe sucked in a large draught of air and then slowly released it, facing Jazz squarely.

                “Like I said. I need something different from Sunny. I need to feel… hopeless. Humiliated. As low as possible. And then I need to be brought back up. To know that I still can.”

                Jazz stared at the mech sitting across from him, the frontliner who went into battle with a happy war cry and who was rarely seen without a grin. The twin who poked and prodded his brother into joining their friends, who listened to Bluestreak ramble about nothing, and Wheeljack about scientific nonsense Sideswipe probably didn’t understand a word of. This was the mech who brought Ratchet out of his post surgery funks, who made Prowl actually smile (twice!), and who bumped shoulders with Optimus when their leader was staring pensively off into nothing. 

                It was humbling to realize that the mech who always had a smile on his lips, maybe didn’t always have one in his spark. It resonated with something deep inside Jazz.

                Something in Jazz’s expression made Sideswipe scowl and hold up a finger in warning. “Don’t. Don’t you dare pity me, Jazz.”

                “I’m not,” he replied honestly. “I think I might need that too. That’s not all, not by a long shot. But I could see myself requesting a scenario like that.”

                “What else do you think you need?” Sideswipe asked, and Jazz accepted the deflection for what it was.

                “I think a little bit of the cared for feeling,” he replied, nodding in Sunstreaker’s direction. “Especially before and after. But during… mostly…”

                “Punished.”

                 Jazz met Sideswipe’s shrewd gaze and nodded, not surprised that he had guessed correctly. “How do you know that?”

                “Your responsibilities – you take it hard when something goes wrong on one of the Ops missions, even if you’re not there. A lot of mechs don’t see it, but I do. There’s also the fact that you keep mentioning getting whipped or beaten. It’s not hard to connect the dots, Jazz,” Sideswipe said with a wry look.

                “But… you’re not looking for anything too extreme either,” Sideswipe added, expression turning thoughtful.

                “Oh, yeah?” Jazz asked, wondering how he figured that.

                Sideswipe grinned at him. “Didn’t seem to be a fan of the fisting. Or sounding. Things that have to be done very carefully.”

                “Hey, you were the one who said the fisting wasn’t a good idea!” Jazz protested.

                “Because you’re half minibot yourself,” Sunstreaker commented. He shifted a little bit to his side, gathering his blanket higher around his shoulders as it slid down in the process. Sideswipe watched him until he settled, stroking Sunstreaker’s cloth covered lower leg.

                “Well, there now. You have an idea what you’re looking for,” Sideswipe observed, pleased. “What are some of the methods to get there that you’re interested in? I already know about the spanking.”

                “Uh, yeah, there’s that. Bondage. Flogging. Energy manipulation,” Jazz offered. By this point, he wasn’t even embarrassed anymore. Not after seeing everything he had so far this evening.

                Sideswipe cocked his head to the side. “Energy manipulation? How so? Involving sparks?”

                “No,” Jazz said, shaking his head. “Like an energy rod – I ran across several articles about electrical stimulation on some human forums. The idea appeals to me.”

                “Huh,” Sideswipe merely said. Jazz watched Sunstreaker’s optics narrow in on his twin.

                “No. Absolutely not! That kind of discharge will bubble up your paint,” Sunstreaker protested.

                “You wouldn’t have to use it on the plating. Go directly to the infrastructure instead,” Sideswipe explained, Jazz shifting forward in his seat with interest.

                Sunstreaker heard him move and looked back and forth between the two of them with distaste. “The two of you are masochists,” he accused.

                “Hey, you don’t mind pain,” Sideswipe argued.

                 “I don’t mind it, no. But I don’t go seeking it.”

                 Jazz turned a laugh into a cough behind his hand, not even the littlest bit cowed by the glower he received. “I think Prowl would disagree with you on that. Jumping on Seekers and the like.”

                “That was Sideswipe’s idea. And surprisingly effective,” Sunstreaker grumbled.

                “Mmm. Anyway, it’s just a thought, Sunny. You know I do my research.”

                Sunstreaker snorted in derision. “You mean you watch the humans’ pornography.”

                “Hey, I’ve picked up some good ideas from them,” Sideswipe protested.

                “I did notice that a lot of the information you sent me was based in human sexual practices,” Jazz commented. At least fifty percent. The rest was a hodgepodge of old Cybertronian data files and Sideswipe’s own notes from both failed and successful sessions. Jazz wondered if Sunstreaker knew about those.

                “There’s not a lot else to go on,” Sideswipe replied, slouching down in his seat and practically cuddling his brother’s legs. “Not like anyone’s publishing a “How To” Guide for dominance in Cybertronians. On the other hand, the humans’ internet is full of BDSM sites and forums. And the people I’ve chatted with have always been helpful.”

                Jazz nodded thoughtfully, taking another swig of the high grade. He glanced at the plate of energon goodies before leaning forward and snatching up another one. “Our two species _are_ pretty similar.”

                “That we are. Well, Jazz, what other questions do you got for us?” Sideswipe asked, kicking up his own feet and carefully placing them on the end of the table. Despite regaining some of his aura of power back after safewording, he still seemed weary.  His expression was earnest, but Jazz could tell that Sideswipe was beginning to wind down.

               “I think that’s all I have,” Jazz replied truthfully, knocking back the rest of his glass and setting it down. “I’ve got things a little more organized in my processor; now I just need to set up a time to meet with Optimus.”

               Sideswipe nodded in agreement. “Mmm. When you do, give me a heads up. If you still want me available, you know my schedule.”

               “I’ll keep that in mind,” Jazz said, getting to his feet. He stretched, lifting his arms above his head and twisting at the waist. When he turned back around, both of the twins were avidly watching him, Sideswipe’s head tilted to the side in consideration.

               Jazz let a slow smirk grace his lips, one side of his visor flashing in a wink. “And you let me know what the two of you decide about me ‘observing’ again, hmm?”

              “Oh, we will,” Sideswipe purred. “Heading out?”

              “Got a shift in a few breems,” Jazz replied, grinning as the twins didn’t even twitch. “No, don’t get up; I’ll show myself out.”

               Sideswipe slouched even further. “The door’s right there. You have any other questions, you know how to find me.”

              “Yup. Thanks again, Sideswipe. Sunstreaker.” With a nod and a tip of an imaginary hat, Jazz strolled to the room’s door and exited. As he walked down the hall towards his own quarters, Jazz’s processor churned madly. He had learned a great deal from the twins today and definitely saw a side of them that he doubted anyone else ever had. It was a privilege that he would treasure, even if he never got the chance to take part in any more of their sessions.

              The next step was to approach Optimus. Jazz had a better grasp now on what he thought he wanted and how to go about it. He just hoped that Optimus was willing to experiment a little.

 

~ End 


End file.
